


; break me apart and put me back together

by devilsxbride



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:28:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23777611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilsxbride/pseuds/devilsxbride
Summary: “Do you want me to leave?” he whispers out. He doesn’t want to stay here and make Dean uncomfortable. Doesn’t think he’s welcome or deserving of the safe haven that Dean’s embrace offers, the love he’s eager to give or those lazy morning kisses he’s greeted with first thing upon opening his eyes. He should leave- and not just the room.“Where would you go?” Dean huffs in response, his voice scratchy like he’d only woken up. It tugs at Cas’s bleeding heart in a way that has him almost tripping over himself and falling on his knees.----------The one where Cas becomes a human and is unable to cope, Dean tries really hard to help and Cas is unkind in taking what he needs. Together, they heal.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 70





	; break me apart and put me back together

**Author's Note:**

> The season when Cas was human was one of my absolute favorites in the entire show and I really wanted to diverge from canon and explore Cas struggling with losing his grace, while in a relationship with Dean. Basically, this is me indulging my own thirst for angst and hopefully giving some of you the feels I lost nights of sleep over. I really put a lot of thought into each word I wrote down and reasoning behind it, and I hope that translates. I'd love to hear your thoughts down in the comments and ideas on what else you might want to read about it, if you liked my writing! Thank you for reading ♥

There’s a soft rumble in his chest, low in resonance from the vibrations of Baby’s engine. It’s just about all that Castiel feels these days.

He’s not exactly sure where they are, but he’s got a vague memory of them passing a green signboard with ‘40, Lebanon’ written on it _.  _ Somewhere along the way, the sky has gone from murky to starless and dark, but he’d missed the transition despite it having unraveled before his very eyes. All the grassland of the High Plains seemed to have blended into a singular blur, and then the night swept in from nowhere, swallowing the dull beiges. 

Dean glances at the passenger seat, eyes skimming across Cas’s face, then hands neatly gathered in his lap and then back up. His right hand twitches on the steering wheel, but he keeps it steadfast there. 

“Are you okay?” Dean asks, trying to keep his tone weightless and casual, but Cas hears the subtle hint of worry seeping through.

“I’m fine” Cas utters, fooling no one. He half expects Dean to counter him with ‘no, you’re not’, but then remembers that they’re stuck in this infinite loop of him silently oozing misery and Dean walking on eggshells, never daring to make any retorts on the matter anymore. Not after Cas had snapped at him in annoyance the last time Dean tried to make things better, as he always does. 

His grace is gone. He is human. There is no making things better.

All they do now is handle cases, day after day, night after night on Dean’s accord. Sam would help them find a monster of the day and Dean would say “Come on, Cas.” instead of asking “Are you coming?”. As of recently, Dean’s the one making all the calls for Cas, ‘cause if it were up to him, he wouldn’t be making any calls. Period. 

He figures, by the way Dean takes time to complement the improvement in the way Cas handles guns or even beams at smallest victories of him not taking a badge out upside down, that Dean’s trying to make him feel useful. 

While Cas is grateful, it doesn’t work. 

Instead, it makes him flashback to earlier today, when Dean had offered that they handle the ghoul case alone - just the two of them. Although aware that he was a liability and nowhere near as trained of a hunter as Sam was, he accepted the offer without a protest.  _ Mistake number one. _

When Dean got thrown into a wall and almost got mauled, had it not been for another hunter who swooped in and saved the day, Castiel would’ve been the one to blame. Or he would be dead too. It’s not like he could imagine living past Dean after having gotten him killed.  _ That was mistake number two. _

There was a time when he was able to protect the people he loves. Now, Dean leans into his touch and kisses the inner of his palms when Cas pressed his two fingers against Dean’s forehead in a futile attempt to heal his concussion. He tried to play it off as though he hadn’t noticed what Cas had done on instinct and Cas feels a weak attempt of fury brewing low in his stomach yet again as he relives the memory. But the fury doesn’t linger. It gets quenched fast, taking him right back to nothingness again. 

He hates the way everyone, but  _ especially _ Dean treats him like he’s made of glass. Like he’s about to break any second now, and it’s making him feel on edge all the time, unable to ever tip over.

The other night, gentle hands snapped him out of a nightmare ridden of all monsters known to him. It was so human, how he trashed around the bed, sweating through clothes that wasn’t his, just because he dreamed of downing bottle after bottle of water without being able to quench his thirst, endless and disconcerting. He felt like a ghost, with a stream of water rushing straight in  _ and through _ his body. 

And after he’d said it to Dean in the dark of their room, Dean didn’t laugh or find anything silly about losing sleep over such a futile thing. Instead, Dean shared in return how sometimes he gets stuck in an endless loop of dreams where his seventeen year old self walks into the store to buy Sammy PB&J but he’s always a dollar short of the price. 

Dean tries to comfort through relatable anecdotes and soft strokes against Castiel’s cheekbones,  _ and  _ Cas knows _ he tries hard _ , but the attempts prove fruitless in putting him back to sleep. Because Dean  _ can’t  _ understand or relate to  _ this _ , regardless of how much he tries to. 

Nevertheless, Cas closes his eyes and feigns his breathing slowing down, so he doesn’t keep Dean up and losing sleep over him. 

Sam tries too. He bought Castiel a journal and asked if he could help with gathering information on a variety of creatures, because although Cas has lost his angelic powers, all of the knowledge he’d acquired over a lifetime remains. He goes for more jogs, too, leaving the bunker to Dean and him, but they rarely have sex anymore. 

The way Dean’s eyes are molten with care whenever he looks into Cas’s own, and how nowadays Dean always initiates what can hardly ever be categorized as sex but rather  _ only _ love making face-to-face, makes Castiel feel as though there’s an elephant sitting on his chest. 

Whenever he’s held so tightly to Dean’s chest that he can practically feel the man’s heart stampeding, he goes back to times when he could see the brightness of Dean’s soul from across the room or hear his prayers even when in Heaven, and suddenly the present closeness and the intimacy makes his eyes sting. Dean would be rocking gently into him, trailing languid kisses along his jawline down to his neck, peppering him with love and Cas would be too busy with not falling apart to reciprocate. 

“Home or away?” Dean asks, an act of mercy he’s presented with each night. Cas knows Dean would feel less helpless if he agreed to a distraction,  _ an impromptu date night, _ but existing in the bunker is way easier and less painful than watching Dean bend over backwards to take his mind off the matter. Or even worse, to make Cas happy.

Cas knows he’s selfish when he says “Home.” but seeing Dean get physically hurt and being unable to do anything about it has taken a toll on him. 

Another day, he’ll make it up to him and agree to go elsewhere. Maybe tomorrow he could even clean up their room a little, be the one to make Dean breakfast for a change. Actually contribute to their relationship. 

\---

When they’re back to the bunker, Dean’s updating Sam on how the hunt went, omitting the part of the story where Cas almost got him killed - and Sam informs them there are leftovers of the lunch he’d made in the kitchen. 

Cas says he’ll go heat up the meals for two of them and Dean lets him. 

He also takes care of whatever dirty dishes he finds in the kitchen and even hand dries each plate with a dish cloth before putting them back in place. 

Some days, when he’s doing these mundane tasks, he feels inexplicable sudden urges of violence wash over him and desires to snap the ceramics under his fingers or against the walls. He wants to punch the table or bite through his own teeth and he’s angry for no reason whatsoever. Other days, like today, he couldn’t muster up a single thought had he wanted to. And yet, even in all his numbness, he feels like he might snap in half any second now.

After a while, as events unfold every night and once Dean decides Cas has had enough of solitude, he feels the hunter’s presence quietly announcing itself from behind his back. There is an anchoring touch settling against his hips as soft lips press against his nape. 

He turns in Dean’s embrace to face him and anticipates Dean’s nightly offer of a board game to play, only to mutter out: “No” just as Dean begins to ask: “Do you want to-...”

And then he’s crashing into Dean like a tidal wave, mouth open wide and ready to devour, their hot breaths the only audible sound in the room. It doesn’t take Dean long to respond, to clash into and melt against Cas’s chest, closing the distance between them, crowding Cas against the kitchen counter. Dean’s  _ so _ wonderfully pliant, always so eager,  _ so good for him _ , with his hand sliding into Castiel’s hair, tugging onto soft tufts of hair at the base. 

It’s exactly what he needs,  _ but not quite.  _ He  _ needs _ and he doesn’t even know what it is that he aches for, but he tries to wordlessly explain by gripping onto Dean’s wrist and guiding it around his own throat. A pathetic moan escapes his mouth, unabashed and guttural as he pistols his hips against Dean’s hardness  _ and it makes him dizzy with want.  _ Dean pauses for a moment, fingers resting against Cas’s neck as he thumbs the entrance of his mouth, eliciting a desperate response of lips wrapping around the digit. There’s a salty taste against Cas’s tongue and he’s overwhelmed by the desire to be taken apart and in just a matter of seconds he’s snapping: “Are you just gonna stand there and look at me, Dean?” 

That seems to snap the hunter out of his reverence and back into action. Cas realizes he’s clutching onto Dean’s tee in desperation, as though that’s the only thing keeping him upright and Dean forces him into letting go of the fabric so he can rid them of both of their shirts. Suddenly, there are teeth grazing and tongue flicking against his nipples, gentle nibbles and sucks setting every nerve of his body on fire as Dean’s whole body and hand roams south, heel of his palm pressing against the length of Cas’s jeans-trapped cock. 

“Do you wanna go to the bedroom and-” Dean begins.

“No,  _ Dean. _ ” he groans an interruption, lacing the utterance of Dean’s name with annoyance. “Just…” he grinds his teeth, clenches his jaw and pushes a restrained huff of air through his nostrils. “Quit screwing around and fuck me.” he finishes.

As if to emphasize what he’s asking for, he grabs the front of Dean’s hair in a yank backwards until his dilated pupils are staring up at Cas in pure, undiluted hunger. He arches his hips into Dean’s mouth and finally,  _ finally _ there are fingers pulling down the zipper and both his jeans and boxers are being dragged to the floor. 

Dean’s arms wrap around his hips, his biceps flexing and back contorting as he anchors himself there, peppering kisses against Cas’s navel and hipbones,  _ purposely  _ avoiding his dick. That asshole looks right up at him and smiles, proud of his little teasing and edging game but Cas-... he can’t find it in him to play into the role of someone who enjoys the drag of the events when all he wants is to be senselessly pounded against the kitchen counter.

“ _ Dean. _ ” he practically bites out this time, itching to jump out of his skin and skip this bothersome foreplay Dean is trying to engage him in. He’s angry and riled up and just wants for everything to  _ stop.  _ He takes Dean’s hand, the one resting against his ass, and slides it lower against his crack, pushing against his lover’s fingers. “Which part of my order didn’t you understand?”

The smile disappears off of Dean’s face and Castiel swallows the lump that’s found its way to his throat at the sight. Sudden rush of heat washes over him, and it has nothing to do with being undressed or aroused. He has to hold his breath for a second there, ‘cause he thinks if he exhales, he might start to cry. 

“Yeah.” Dean croaks, words clipped. “Okay.” 

And he gets up on his feet, manhandling Cas into facing the counter. Dean’s hand wraps around the back of his neck and pushes him forward until he’s bent over. The granite is cold against his bare chest and the sound of a belt coming undone from behind makes him release that breath he’s been holding. All of his senses seem heightened now that he can’t actually see Dean and he thrums with anticipation of what’s to come.

The weight of Dean’s body mounting him is grounding and he has to close his eyes just to stop the room from spinning. “I don’t have the-..-” he hears Dean begin to say, but cuts him off-

“Just use your spit. And get it over with, already.” he demands, grinding back against Dean’s cock. 

He feels Dean freeze for a moment, but  _ hears _ him comply, although the sound of it seems like it’s coming from somewhere under the water. There’s a gentle peck being pressed against his ear and he’s ready to scold again, clipping “I swear, if you don’t-” but then there’s a heat pressing against his entrance and he’s feeling like he’s being split in half,  _ in the best way  _ possible. 

There’s the welcome burn he’s been begging for and his body is not ready, but his mind has him pushing against Dean’s cock, taking him further in as a filthy moan escapes his mouth and echoes throughout the kitchen. There’s no way Sam didn’t hear that, but he doesn’t care, he just  _ needs. _

“Harder,  _ Dean. _ ” he begs and Dean bottoms out slowly at first and then all at once. He’s hitting that sweet spot right off the bat, always so skillful and attentive, knowing exactly what makes Cas’s eyes roll right into his skull. For the first time, in a long time, he feels so blissed out, stretched out like this, and there’s a burst of fondness welling up in his chest ‘cause Dean is  _ so good _ . Never denying Cas of anything he desires, but giving into every order obediently, without further questioning. It’s  _ exactly  _ what he needs.

Dean’s palm spreads open against Cas’s back, pushing him further into the kitchen counter and tethering him there. Cas uses his own hand to reach behind, nails digging into Dean’s pectorals while he’s being pounded into, each stroke rougher than the other. 

He hears a hiss escape Dean’s lips and he thinks he might be digging into some of the scrapes and bruises that Dean has earned on the hunt earlier today. But Dean’s hand wraps around his cock just then, dispelling away whatever thoughts Cas had lingering around his head.

From that point on, everything turns into a blurry haze. He’s fucking into Dean’s fist and greedily taking himself apart on Dean’s cock. His teeth are buzzing, ears are ringing and his head feels like it might just explode. 

One second he’s shivering and the other fire is licking and nipping at his face. There’s a litany of filth spilling over his lips, they’re both losing their rhythm, the room is spinning and all that he hears is flesh pounding against flesh. Dean looms over him and tries to capture his mouth once, but Cas inches away before he can, biting into the flesh of his own forearm spread forward and against the counter, instead.

And then, his breathing hitches, his whole body jerks once,  _ twice  _ and he’s coming all over Dean’s hand, over the counter,  _ over the floor  _ with “ah” “ah” “ah’s” ripping themselves out of Cas’s throat with each spurt of come as he rides out the waves of his own orgasm.

There’s an absolute silence, both external and internal, enveloping him in a warm cocoon and he sighs in content, blissed out. 

He feels Dean pull out and hears him pick up the jeans hanging low around his ankles. There’s a sound of a zipper being pulled up and steps growing quieter until they fully disappear into nothingness, and Cas is left heaving against the granite for a while longer. 

He comes back to his senses slow and steady. First, he feels the cold. 

He makes a valiant effort to push himself back up. There’s a soft crack of his back as he straightens, too loud on its own, in a room emptied of all but his sole presence. Suddenly, he feels the need to shrivel into himself, trying to preserve what last bits of warmth remain in his body, now that Dean’s heated body is not pressed against him. 

He draws in a shaky breath and turns around, and the sound of doors being closed somewhere in the distance finally takes him out of his stupor. He blinks twice and his mind catches up with Dean having left the room. Lowering himself down to pull his jeans and pick his shirt up from the floor, he manages to dress himself back up after a couple of unsuccessful fumbles. 

Now that he is of clear and sound mind, he feels the bile rise up his throat and cold dread seep into his bones. 

Everything’s coming back to him in pieces and then all at once, and he realizes that essentially, what he just asked Dean to do, was to hurt him. 

For the first time, throughout the entire duration of having known Dean, way before  _ Dean _ even knew  _ him _ , he didn’t reach for Dean first.

Or at all.

He didn’t even bother with kindness, but just...used Dean to bring himself over the edge. For all he knew, Dean didn’t even finish himself. 

In fact, he hasn’t even thought of Dean, or what he wanted. Not for a second, not once.

He presses his tongue against the roof of his mouth. There are tears welling up in his eyes.

Castiel doesn’t consider himself a coward, but he doesn’t lie to himself that he takes additional twenty minutes to clean the kitchen up thoroughly just because he’s a neat freak, either. He practically drags himself out of the area and into the hallway, staring down its length and at the doors of Dean’s bedroom for another five. 

His fingers are clammy when he curls and places them against the wooden surface. Eventually, he pulls back without a knock and pushes the doors open with a creak. 

All lights are off, aside from the lamp on the bedside table. Dean’s lying on the bed, curled up in a fetal position on his side of the bed, his face only barely illuminated and unreadable. His hair is wet and there’s a scent of sandalwood in the air, so he must’ve got fresh out of the shower. Gray sweats are hanging low on his hips, plain white shirt stretched against his biceps and he looks so soft. So childlike and vulnerable. 

Cas doesn’t make any steps forward to join him, doesn’t think he’s able to move, finding himself cemented to the spot where he stands. 

“Do you want me to leave?” he whispers out. He doesn’t want to stay here and make Dean uncomfortable. Doesn’t think he’s welcome or deserving of the safe haven that Dean’s embrace offers, the love he’s eager to give or those lazy morning kisses he’s greeted with first thing upon opening his eyes. He should leave-  _ and not just the room _ .

“Where would you go?” Dean huffs in response, his voice scratchy like he’d only woken up. It tugs at Cas’s bleeding heart in a way that has him almost tripping over himself and falling on his knees. 

“I could stay in a motel.” he offers and shrugs, right hand travelling up his left forearm, fingers wrapping right around and above his elbow. 

There’s a deafening silence reverberating through the room and Castiel can hear the racing and pounding of his own heart. He’s just standing there,  _ waiting, _ and he feels so utterly small and as insignificant as he’s ever been. 

Although quietly, Dean responds “No.” and Cas will take it. He’ll take whatever crumbles Dean decides to give him after what he’s done. 

“Can I-” he draws in sharp breath, and Dean just shifts closer to the edge of his side of the bed, making space for Cas in response.

The mattress dips slightly under his weight as he sits on the other edge, pensive and adamant about cozying himself up to Dean. 

“Cas, lie down, please.” 

He does. 

He lies on his side and then draws nearer to Dean’s back, like a moth drawn to flame. 

Dean reaches back for his arm and wraps it around his torso, closing whatever remaining distance existed between them. Cas feels himself exhaling as the rush of emotions washes over him and he has to bury his face into the crook of Dean’s neck, inhale his scent, to keep himself stitched together. He thinks what he’s experiencing might be an adrenaline crash.

“I’m sorry.” he barely musters, voice small and frightened. It’s the most he’s felt in days and yet it’s uglier than all that nothingness he’s been systematically drowning in. 

He hears Dean swallow hard and thinks he hears a sniff as well while his heart breaks in a thousand little shards. 

“I know you’re hurting.” Dean begins. “I know that roadtrips and hunting and game nights can’t replace what you lost. I know I can’t-....I know I can’t love you into getting over it.”

He sounds so helpless and Cas can feel the salty tang hit his lips as the tears finally spill over to stream down his cheeks. 

“I want to help you. I want to try and be what you need, but...if what I’m doing isn’t doing you any good, if  _ I  _ am not good for you, then…” Dean doesn’t finish and Cas is so glad he doesn’t, ‘cause he doesn’t think he’d be able to handle the full impact of realizing that  _ he  _ made Dean feel this way. 

_ He  _ made Dean feel as though he’s not enough and that’s just unforgivable. Because Dean’s always been  _ everything.  _ More than, even.

Castiel had a vague idea for a while now that Dean thought of himself as responsible for this too. His self-loathing has proved itself limitless on numerous occasions and there were few instances when Dean made it known that he believes if he hadn’t asked Cas to rebel for him, i _ f he didn’t push _ , then Cas would still be an angel. 

One time when Dean and Sam weren’t on speaking terms, when Cas could still hear his prayers - and Dean probably didn’t even know that at the peak of their bond, Cas could register even the silent thoughts that weren’t intended for anyone’s ears - he overheard Dean say that he wished Cas didn’t love him, ‘cause then he’d have no reason to keep on fighting. But because Cas  _ did  _ love him, he had someone he had to avoid hurting.

He couldn’t imagine what was going through Dean’s head, what ideas of what Cas might do to himself if he doesn’t successfully intervene floated around his mind, having to look at Cas physically existing in the bunker's space every day, but never really of present mind there. He’s been a shell of himself for a while now, with Dean shouldering all the burden on his own, all while grappling with his own inability to forgive himself for just  _ being.  _

“My love.” Cas finally utters and he can feel Dean shiver in response.  _ God,  _ not only is he not an angel - but he’s barely a human. There was nothing human about how he’d treated Dean and what he was bringing him down to now. “You are the one good thing I have, and I am so sorry I made you feel otherwise.” 

His clutch around Dean tightens and he presses another kiss against Dean’s nape, his shoulder, his back. And then another. And another. 

“I used you.” he admits. “I used you to inflict pain upon myself just so I could feel something.”  _ And you’d never hurt me,  _ he thinks. “That was unfair of me. No -  _ unkind.  _ And you didn’t deserve that.” 

Cas doesn’t expect to hear that it’s alright, ‘cause it isn’t - and Dean doesn’t say it. They both know what happened tonight can’t happen ever again. 

Instead, Dean says “I know. I understand why you did it and I wanted to be who you need me to be. But-...” 

He doesn’t finish the thought. Doesn’t need to. Cas understands. 

“I don’t need you to be anyone but who you already are. You are perfect. You  _ are. _ ” he insists upon hearing a huff of protest coming from Dean. “It’s me who’s broken.”

“You’re not broken, Cas.” Dean quickly responds and he finally shifts so that he’s facing Cas. He’s never felt shy under Dean’s gaze but it takes immense willpower for Cas not to look away now. His expression is open and vulnerable and whatever Dean decides to do with him now will either tear him down irreparably or begin to stitch him back together. “You’ve lost a big part of yourself and you’re mourning and that’s  _ human.  _ And it’s messy and it’s hard, but it’s happening to you - until it isn’t.”

Dean’s hand reaches for his cheek in a tender touch, and Cas allows for his eyes to close. He leans into the warmth of Dean’s palm and just when he thinks he’s got no tears left to cry, another droplet makes its escape for Dean to catch. 

“It’s gonna take a while until you get used to this, but you  _ will  _ get used to this. You’ve been an angel for a long time, but that’s not the most important part of your identity. If it was, you wouldn’t have made choices any different from your brothers and sisters.” Dean continues, nuzzling gently against Cas’s nose. “You’re the angel who fell in love with humanity. You’re the angel who  _ loves.  _ That’s who you are, wings or no wings. And you’re still able to feel love, aren’t you. You love me, don’t you?” he asks, and Cas is grateful that he doesn’t sound uncertain of it, but is simply trying to reroutie Cas’s brain from the bottomless pit of dark thoughts. 

“Of course I do.” he rushes the words out, can’t have Dean not hearing them for another second. In fact, he needs to say it loud, clear and exact. “I love you. I love you beyond words, beyond this universe. Beyond anything. I’ve doubted everything, I’ve doubted my own father, my own family, my purpose - but I’ve never doubted you.” 

And then Dean’s kissing him, and it’s just a soft press of lips against his, unmoving and comfortable  _ and safe  _ and then he's on that seventh heaven humans always speak of. It’s so much better than Heaven he knows of.  _ Infinitely  _ better. If Cas could or had to choose between going back up and staying here,  _ home and with Dean _ , forever - he’d  _ stay here,  _ in a heartbeat. 

“Then you’re still you.” Dean whispers upon breaking the kiss. “And you don’t have to build yourself up from scratch. You’re just a little bruised, ‘s all that you are - just like me. And now we can heal together, alongside. You’ve seen me do it many times - let me show you how, let me help you. Let us do this together.”

“Okay.”  _ Together.  _ He could do with together. 

  
  
  


  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry for whatever grammatical/syntax errors there might be in the story. I don't have a beta reader and English is not my native language. I'm still learning and I'm trying ^^


End file.
